Royal Elite: Leander

by Danielle Bourdon

  “What's going on, Leander? I mean, what's really going on? If your father is a threat to Wynn--”

  “He's not a threat in the way you think. My father is a driven man, but not one to prey on other humans.” Leander dodged around the topic as best he could. Chey might be the queen of Latvala, and he respected her position and power, but she had no sway over his personal life.

  “But he's still a threat in some way, or that's the inference I get from your answer.” She arched a brow.

  Turn, tap. Turn, tap. His eyes fell on the phone. It rotated over and over, like the cycle of his thoughts. Rephrasing, he said, “My father isn't a threat. That's all I can really say.”

  “Leander. We're thousands of miles above the earth. No one is listening in, no one can hear this conversation but you and me. What's going on?”

  “I know. These are things I'm not at liberty to discuss, though. I'll get there and find out what he wants me to do, or what I have to do, and then Wynn and I can return to Latvala. We'll get married and life can carry on.” He reeled the phone in, tucked it into a pocket of his vest after turning it off, then looked directly at Chey.

  She quirked her lips, clearly unhappy with that answer. “All right, fair enough. What about the things I saw in Ankara? What are the lot of you up to that you haven't been telling us?”

  “I swear you and Wynn have to be blood related,” he said, appeased when he got an unexpected laugh out of Chey.

  “That's what you get for falling for her. We're tenacious and stubborn, too bad for you.”

  He chuckled and got up from the chair. A mini-fridge sat on the far side of the room, a mini-fridge he knew was always stocked with drinks. Pulling a bottle of water out, he offered one over to Chey, who murmured her thanks and took it from his extended fingertips.

  With one of his own in hand, Leander cracked the cap off and had a long drink. Draining half the bottle in one go, he surfaced with a sound of appreciation. His throat was as dry as sawdust.

  “You didn't answer my question,” Chey said in a matter of fact tone.

  She really was as tenacious as Wynn. “I know. Can we wait on that, Chey? I'm pretty wiped out.”

  “Yet you're pacing the room.”

  He shot her a wry look and nearly asked her if she did any espionage work on the side. Chey didn't miss much or mince words. “I will for a while until I come down from the adrenaline rush.”

  Chey tapped her fingers on the water bottle, studying him with an almost unnerving intensity. In that moment, Leander got a glimpse of what Sander went through when Chey was adamant about getting an answer. He maintained silence, holding her eyes, hoping she would reconsider pushing the issue.

  “Take the bed. I'll curl up on the couch out here and rest until we land.” Chey straightened from her lean.

  “There's no way I'm taking the only real bed on board. Nuh-uh. You have a good night's sleep--”

  “Take the bed, Leander,” Chey said quietly, then smiled a little smile. “I might not know the whole story with all you men, but I do know that you've got something big coming up and you need to be rested to deal with it.” Chey didn't wait for an answer. She turned, stepped out, and closed the door behind her.

  Leander ran a hand through his hair. He hadn't been lying when he'd said he needed to come down off the adrenaline high before he could even think of sleep. So he paced and drank, hydrating his body after sweating the day away in the heat.

  Tomorrow, at least, he would have a better idea of whether he would live or die.

  . . .

  “Wynn, it's Chey. I wanted to call you before I got a bit of sleep—if I can sleep at all—and find out what Leander said.”

  Wynn, back in the same booth after a long walk through the woods behind the cafe, toyed with the coffee mug while she listened to Chey. Late afternoon sunlight streamed through the window to her right, casting streaks across her table and the floor beyond. She'd been in and out all day, taking turns walking, exploring and fretting. The waitresses all knew her by name, now, and after she'd explained her situation in subtle, undefined terms, the staff was understanding and willing to accommodate.

  “He didn't tell me anything. I'm so frustrated. I mean, I've been at this cafe since early this morning, but I don't want to leave and get a room anywhere,” Wynn said. “And he's telling me I can't go back to the house. My hands are tied. But I'm going to have to do something soon. The cafe only stays open so long.”

  “I know. I couldn't get anything out of anyone, either. I saw what they're doing, though. No getting around that now,” Chey replied.

  “What was it like?”

  “Military-ish clothing, you know, vests and pants with pockets for ammunition and weapons and whatnot. They're armed to the teeth—it looks like an undercover operation, which is what it is. This can't be the first time they've all worked together, too, so I'm guessing that all those times they left on three day 'errands' or 'meetings with foreign kings' or whatever were bogus. They've been going off doing this for a long time as a team.” Chey scoffed.

  “That's fantastic. So they've been risking their lives and we didn't even know it.” That wasn't the news Wynn wanted to hear. Leander providing 'security' for Mattias or Sander was one thing, as was collecting information on the sly. Taking off for dangerous missions on other people's behalf was another.

  “It looks that way. And when I left Ankara, they were pretty sure another strike was coming, so now I'm worried about them all.”

  “I know, same here. I just hope everything is over quickly and everyone makes it out without a scratch.” Wynn paused, then added, “I guess I better find the closest hotel and get a room. It's going to be a while before you get here.” Another day without Leander. Wynn was getting twitchy.

  “Make sure you text me where you're staying. I don't know what Leander will do once we get there, but I have a feeling that he'll go straight to the house before he sees you,” Chey said.

  “Oh, that's not the way it's going to happen at all. Just let me know when you land. I plan to meet you both at the house.”

  “Wynn--”

  “I know what he said, and I don't care. I'm tired of not knowing everything. I bet they'll say it's 'our best interest' and that 'it's safer' if we don't know what they're doing. That's baloney. I deserve to know when he is and isn't going to be in danger.” Wynn huffed a breath and put a lid on her irritation. It stemmed from worry about what kind of trouble Leander might be in.

  “Okay. I'll let you know when we touch down. Try and get some sleep and we'll see you some time in the morning.”

  “Thanks for calling, Chey. Have a safe flight.” Wynn ended the call, gathered her things, and after leaving a large tip for the waitresses who had been so kind all day, departed the cafe.

  Although she didn't think she'd get any sleep, she knew she had to try and rest.

  Tomorrow marked two days Leander had left to live.

  Chapter Ten

  Leander's 'second' phone went off, startling him awake. He flailed an arm up in defense until he got his bearings, which was quicker than most people given his extra curricular activities. He'd learned to snap his mind to attention in seconds after waking, a necessary survival trait.

  The drone of the engine assured him they were still high above the earth, making way toward the west coast of California. He didn't know what time it was or how long he'd been asleep. After a brief shower the evening before, he'd stretched out to try and regenerate his body and his energy. Reaching for the nightstand, he picked up the cell phone and answered without glancing at the screen. It could only be a member of the Elite calling on this line.

  “Yeah, yeah. I'm here.”

  “Leander, it's Mattias.”

  He sat up straighter in bed, propping his torso up with one hand. “What's the news.”

  “They tried to follow you once you had Chey in the car. Probably wanted to take you hostage and question you. So we had to stop their vehicle and storm the building.”<
br />
  “Damn. Tell me everyone got out all right.” Leander didn't like the odds. The men holding Kristo outnumbered their group two or three to one.

  “Ahsan managed some intel from our hostages. How many men there were, and their tentative positions, so it made the task a little easier. We extracted Kristo and the man who seems to be in charge of the operation. We're en route to Weithan Isle right now to return Kristo and the hostage to Augustin. Everyone's fine.”

  “So what aren't you saying?” Leander asked. He'd known Mattias long enough to know that there was something else. Something Mattias hadn't divulged.

  “I don't know. I don't want to say it was too easy, but something just felt...off to me when we got in there.”

  “Like what?”

  “I can't put my finger on it. Just something. Sander and Ahsan noticed it too, though they didn't say anything until we were on Ahsan's private plane out of there.”

  Leander went over everything that had happened since the moment they'd received notice that Kristo had been taken. Every phone call he was privy to, every bit of information coming in from spies and hackers, trying to find a hole or some obvious tripwire.

  “Well, let's go over everything. We heard about it through underground word of mouth, gathered a team, and decided to extract him ourselves. Negotiations between Augustin and the leader of the group deteriorated, with no agreement made for a ransom due to Augustin's apparent 'lack of funds'. So Augustin is attempting to trade in goods for his son's life. Right so far?” Leander threw back the covers and paced to the cooler. Pulling up a bottle of water, he worked the cap off and had a long drink. Coffee would have been better, but water would do. His mind kicked into high gear, looking for points of weakness or instability in the plans so far.

  “Yes, that's where we're at. We arrive at a place for surveillance and wait for our opportunity to snatch Kristo, then Chey arrives unexpectedly with four guards. Kristo's holders send over two pretty unskilled assassins to...what? Kill us all? Maybe that's the part that's really bothering me. If they wanted us dead, why not send an entire team? They have to have better shooters than that. Unless we're dealing with a group of men who didn't plan this out very well, which I doubt because they knew where to snag Kristo and those men overtook Kristo's security with ease.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I'm with you, Mattias.” Leander fell to silence, scratching his chin with a finger. He finished off the water next and dropped the bottle into a small waste bin. “Maybe whoever is in charge sent the shooters to see what we would do with them. Did you check for wires?”

  “Thoroughly. They're not wired in any usual way. All Ahsan could get out of them was how many men were in Kristo's building and their positions. Nothing more about who is ultimately running the thing.”

  “Huh.” Leander raked a hand back through his hair, studying the floor while he paced. “It could be that they didn't know how many of us there were, either, and thought they might come in, find us all unarmed but watching, and take us hostage or disperse us if they didn't think we were a threat. For all they knew, we were part of the media.”

  “It could be. Someone probably recognized Chey and that could be what triggered it, too. A two-for-one ransom deal, not realizing who was inside the building to begin with,” Mattias added.

  “Do these scenarios ease your doubts?” Leander wanted to get a feel for Mattias's instincts. Mattias hesitated.

  “To be truthful, Leander, not really. There is still something that seems off. Like we're overlooking something painfully obvious.”

  “What's the most far out scenario there could be? That the whole thing was a set up from the beginning, to lure us out into the open, to get us all together in the same place--” Leander paused, struck by a wild thought. “Mattias. Land the plane. Land it anywhere you can, as soon as possible. Land it now.”

  “What? Why?” Mattias's voice took on immediate wariness and tension.

  “Sacrifices. The men are sacrifices—and don't know it. They're plants and they've got a device on board.” Leander was as certain of it as he'd ever been in his life.

  “But we searched. They didn't have anything on them,” Mattias said. Then, in a muffled voice, Mattias passed on the message to land the plane.

  Leander waited Mattias out, pacing the room in agitation. Thinking. It didn't take him long to come up with an answer. “Weapons. Did you confiscate their guns and take them with you on board? What about phones?” Leander paused when he got nothing but dead air. “Mattias? Mattias?”

  He dialed the prince's phone again, heart hammering in his chest.

  No answer.

  . . .

  Two days. Wynn, able to only snag a couple hours of restless sleep, was up before the sun. Leander's deadline, the first thing on her mind, was still on her mind two hours later after a shower, change of clothes and quick breakfast of half a bagel and coffee. She hoped Nathaniel meant what he said. I'm the only one who can save him. And if this was Nathaniel's way of bringing his son home because Leander wouldn't come otherwise—she might cheerfully choke the man. She didn't know the source of strife between the two, but using tactics like these wasn't okay with her.

  Checking out of the hotel, which was another twenty minute drive from the cafe, she loaded her luggage and drove down Redwood Highway, determined to be there when Leander and Chey showed up at the house. Chey hadn't called to tell her they'd landed, but Wynn didn't care.

  This time, she wouldn't be left in the dark.

  . . .

  “What's wrong?”

  Leander exited the bedroom, showered, dressed and ready for a new day. An hour and a half had passed and still, no word from Mattias. Calls to Ahsan's phone and Sander's line had gone unanswered. He didn't want to think the worst, wouldn't think the worst. Chey, being the astute person she could sometimes be, picked up on his concern before he could hide it better.

  “I just want to get this over with,” he said, and it wasn't a lie. As far as his father was concerned, Leander had faith that the man would tell him what he needed to do, or where he needed to go, or who to watch out for, and everything would be fine. Time was becoming short, however, and he would be glad to know what was going on and be done with it.

  “Are you sure?” Chey had slipped into a new pair of jeans and a clean tee shirt of baby blue some time between when she'd left the bedroom and now.

  “Yeah, I'm sure.” Leander cut a quick smile her way, then went to the small kitchenette to find something to eat. He always preferred making his meals himself rather than wait on the stewardess to do so. Plucking a banana off a stem of four others, he ate that first, willing his stomach to calm down.

  All he could think about was his brethren and their plane. If he was right, the entire Kristo plot had been a set up. To trap as many of the Royal Elite together at one time as possible. There was only one thing the perpetrator meant to do with them all—kill them. Leander had given long thought to a mutual enemy between them, and had to admit it could be many people. In their line of work, breaking up sex rings, trafficking rings, attempted murders and so on, there were others who were not enamored of their involvement.

  Such was the case months and months ago when the team had been targeted specifically. Then, the mastermind of the threat had been allowed to live, albeit with a string of blackmail threats a mile long to keep him in place. This man, Franklin Carr, was at the top of Leander's list of suspects. He had everything to gain by obliterating prime members of the Royal Elite so he and his partners in crime could get back to their illegal business trade.

  “How much longer until we land, do you know?” Leander asked, finishing off the banana. Realizing Chey had been watching him during his brief reverie, he refocused his attention and vowed not to get distracted like that where she could see.

  “Fifteen minutes or so, the stewardess said.”

  “Good. I want Wynn to stay away from the house, so we'll rent a car when we land, and I'll drive you to where ever she's at.”

/>   “I think it's better if we all go. What if your father is doing this against his will? Maybe you'll need backup or witnesses.”

  “I'll deal with it, I promise, Chey. He wouldn't do anything to hurt me.”

  “What if he didn't have a choice?” she arched a brow.

  “Even then, he's smart enough to figure a way out.”

  “Wynn won't like it.”

  “I know. But I can't do what I need to while worrying about whether she—and you—are okay while we're there.” Leander tossed the peel in the trash and thumbed back at the bedroom. “Gonna grab my pack. Will you call Wynn and tell her to expect us and get the name of her hotel?”

  “I will.”

  Leander understood that Chey wasn't at all happy with the plans, either. This was a necessary evil, however, and he wouldn't budge from his initial directive. As he closed the door to the bedroom, he dug out his phone and made another call.

  Please, please, he pleaded silently, answer the phone.

  The last thing he wanted to do was have to tell Chey that Sander had perished in a plane crash.

  Chapter Eleven

  Tension hummed through Leander's body as he drove the Redwood Highway. The ancient trees that he'd grown up with were familiar and loved, the scents welcoming after so long away. Trepidation came with the proverbial territory, however, and he could only appreciate the striking scenery on the surface. He knew what lurked ahead, what awaited at his childhood home. Fingers tight on the rental car wheel, he focused on the road while worry ate up his insides. No one had answered their phones on the plane. His messages had gone unreturned. Being in Chey's presence meant he couldn't contact anyone else from the Elite to check on the plane's status without alerting her to trouble, only adding to the pressure.

  Exhaling a long breath, he turned his attention to the problem at hand: a missing Wynn. “Why don't you tell me where she was staying,” he said, trying again.